Diwakar

Diwakar possessed a striking handsomeness, but it was not the worn-out Turkish towel that accentuated his appearance. Instead, it served as a modest shield, concealing the peculiar abundance of hair that adorned his body. This unique choice of attire, worn exclusively within the confines of his home, hinted at a vulnerability seldom revealed beneath his affable demeanor and formidable eyebrows. Little did I know, the encounter with this enigmatic individual would soon unveil layers of complexity and intrigue.

December and January enveloped Hyderabad in a modest chill, a far cry from the biting cold of Koraput. Although heavy fog occasionally descended, veiling the cityscape in an ethereal haze, it rarely impeded daily routines. On one such misty morning in early January, I found myself gasping for breath, pushing my limits along the steep incline toward Gachibowli sports village. Despite the invigorating rhythm of my morning jog, the weight of unfulfilled aspirations and the relentless struggle to secure meaningful employment lingered like an oppressive shroud.

As I battled the incline, the specter of despondency clung to me, casting a pall over my endeavors. Each step forward felt like a futile attempt to outrun the persistent gloom that enveloped me. Eventually, defeated by the weight of my own thoughts, I begrudgingly retraced my path homeward, my spirit no lighter than before.

Amidst the tumult of my professional uncertainties, I sought solace in the structured pursuit of knowledge, enrolling in a part-time postgraduate program in computer sciences at Hyderabad Central University. Determined to maximize my time on days devoid of classes, I eagerly embarked on a quest for potential opportunities. Thus, after a hastily consumed breakfast, I set out to rendezvous with Uma, buoyed by the prospect of a promising lead.

Uma, a jovial figure, awaited me at the local typewriting institute, his demeanor exuding warmth and camaraderie. With characteristic efficiency, he wasted no time in broaching the subject that had drawn us together, igniting a dialogue that promised to unravel new avenues of possibility.

"Have you had the chance to meet Diwakar?" Uma inquired, his tone laced with anticipation.

"Diwakar?" I echoed, momentarily puzzled by the name.

"The one associated with Satyam, operating out of IIIT in Gachibowli," Uma clarified, his enthusiasm palpable.

"I've heard of him, but we haven't crossed paths," I admitted.

"He's ventured into entrepreneurship and might have an intriguing opportunity for you. Why not pay him a visit? I can provide you with his address," Uma suggested, extending a lifeline in my quest for employment.

Grasping the address from Uma's outstretched hand, I hastened towards Diwakar's residence, the prospect of potential employment propelling my steps. Along the way, I mentally rehearsed my qualifications, experiences, and aspirations, determined to make a favorable impression. The journey was brief, the distance negligible, yet each stride carried the weight of my hopes and aspirations.

Upon arriving at the apartment, I found Diwakar on the verge of departure, his demeanor mirroring the description Uma had provided. However, in that moment, appearances mattered little to me. All that occupied my thoughts was the desperate yearning for employment, regardless of its remuneration.